dVerse

New Day

lillian56 Comments

Reminded not too long ago that life is transitory, I begin each day in a slow deliberate way. After padding into our galley kitchen in slippers and robe, a morning ritual begins. Paper cone unfolded, fits inside the top half of a glass carafe. Five carefully measured tablespoons of fresh ground beans are placed inside. Two and one-third cups of boiling water held aloft, I pour just enough to saturate the grounds. And then I count. One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three. Moist grounds aerate thirty seconds as I lean in to inhale. Water held aloft again, ever so slowly poured, counterclockwise. Dark liquid foams and slowly seeps into the glass carafe. Filter empties, save wet brown clinging to its sides. Paper sieve discarded, I pour steaming hot elixir into a white ceramic mug. Anticipation rising, I pad my way to the study and sit for that first sip. Eyes closed, savoring the taste and scent. And now, journal and pen in hand, I write. Thankful for this new day.

Coffee beans grown in hot sun
roasted to robust, slowly brewed,
nature’s wake-up call.

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It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse! Today Toni asks us to write a Quotidian. Quotidian means daily — refers to something that happens daily or that we use daily.

Elegy

lillian31 Comments

Father to five, beloved son,
you left far too suddenly.
Unable to escape or run,
knees buckled at Death’s glee.

And we were left behind in shock,
screams and rampant grief.
Angry words turned empty talk,
echoed wails with no relief.

Standing graveside, stooped in loss,
tears drenched with memories
fell upon your coffin etched with cross,
placed ‘neath quaking Aspen trees.

Rest now, my brother dear
and know that we are well.
Your children’s children keep you near,
and their children shall as well.

For all their hopes in future years
their smiles, their deeds in numbers swell,
all of these my brother dear
your legacy do tell.

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Written for dVerse — asking us to do an elegy today.
Photo is my brother, nine years older than me, died far too young at 51. Gone more than twenty years, I still miss him.

Merry Me Not

lillian48 Comments

Carnival merry-go-rounds go
round and round and up and down.
My knot-so-merry-tummy goes
round and round and up
and down and urp [sic] it goes,
paint me calliope green.

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Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics where CC is tending bar. The topic of conversation is “even monkeys fall from trees.”  CC asks us to write about mistakes we’ve made – can be humorous or serious. Well, I learned the hard way — I never ride on merry-go-rounds! Photo credit: Richard Styles

Memorial Day 2016

lillian47 Comments

Stars and stripes ripple in the breeze,
spirits from thousands past
breathing life into those folds of cloth.
The lone sound of Taps cuts through crisp air
bearing witness to their sacrifice,
the price they willingly paid
that we might live in freedom’s path.

american-flag-373362_1920Bjorn is tending the bar today at dVerse Poets’ Pub and asks us to write a quadrille (44 words) using the word “breeze.”  Taps is a slow haunting melody, traditionally performed by a lone bugler, at military funerals and ceremonies.  Today, May 30, 2016 is Memorial Day in the USA – a day on which we honor those patriots who died serving our country; and give thanks to all veterans who have served or are serving today.

 

Outdoors, Seven Flights Up

lillian43 Comments

Listening for city warblers,
red cardinals perched on cement ledges,
impatient jays clinging to limbs.
Ears cringe at raucus horns,
cherry red vehicles rush
nowhere fast, just out of view.
Grey skies meld into buildings,
perfectly perpendicular
floor upon floor upon stack
upon stack upon stacks.
Right angles everywhere.
My lawn chair, an oxymoron
on this outdoor slab,
seven floors up, walls on three sides.
Eyes close so memory can recall
morning Kiskadee songs at dawn,
Bermuda’s blue upon blue horizon
where shimmering waters touch the sky.

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Written for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets’ Pub.

A Step Through Time

lillian30 Comments

Ah youth
tis so hard to say goodbye.
Twirl the rope instead of jump
avoid the puddles instead of stomp.
Piggy bank replaced by credit card,
stiff joints and aging spots.

The antidote is children’s laughter,
hugs and kisses, daring do,
dragons, dollies and make-believe.
Clocks turn magically backwards,
surround sounds of silliness
in gramma’s visits to Neverland .

Written for dVerse Poets’ Pub: Abhra tending bar asks us to write a poem about a temporary goodbye. Just back from a family visit — and a return to my writing — I thought this appropriate!  Various photos of me and grandkids — they do keep me young! 🙂

 

It’s in the Doing

lillian51 Comments

Once,
I wished
on a star.
Another time
a four leaf clover.
Eyes squeezed shut, breath held tight
twenty-one birthday candles
blown out from one huge sucked in puff.
But I’ve come to learn as I grow old,
it’s not in the wishing that dreams come true.

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Written for dVerse Poet’s Pub. Today, Victoria asks us to write an etheree, shaped by syllabic lines from 1 to 10. First line 1 syllable, second line 2 syllables, third line 3 syllables etc. up to the tenth line of 10 syllables. Quite fun to do!

Helen

lillian45 Comments

Unpredictable.
Lightning flashes,
hot licks that seared your soul.
Rosary beads tucked in drawer
near lace-edged handkerchiefs
and candy wrappers.
Pinochle, canasta
she held the deck,
played war occasionally.
A one-man woman she
danced to big band sounds.
Buried sister, son
two birthdays apart,
hers not theirs.
Gone these many years,
she still pops in and out
unpredictably.

mom

Walt is hosting dVerse Poets’ Pub today, asking us to write about a character.
She was indeed.